


Bohemian Like You

by nearlydownpours



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 1960s, Alternate Universe - 1960s, House Party, M/M, San Francisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 07:09:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13735761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nearlydownpours/pseuds/nearlydownpours
Summary: It's sometime in the late 60's and Brendon and Ryan meet at a house party (loosely inspired by the song bohemian like you).





	Bohemian Like You

Brendon nodded coolly along with the music from his seat on a comfy, floral armchair. There were a bunch of them sat on various mismatched pieces of furniture, facing one another and passing 3 or 4 joints round in a clockwise circle. Through the smoke Brendon was watching the man stood singing in the corner of them room. He’d been there since Brendon got in, messing around on an acoustic guitar which was plugged into an amp Brendon couldn’t see. ‘Messing around’ only described his casual demeanour, the actual music was polished and natural, even the mistakes were played out with a professional air.

The girl next to him nudged his arm for the fourth time that night, drawing his attention back to the small circle of friends and the joint being offered on his right.

“You could just go and talk to him, you know.” Sarah said, having noticed the source of her friend’s distraction.

“Nah, I’ll wait ‘till he’s finished.”

Brendon blew a large stream of smoke out and caught the man’s eye just as he was changing guitars. It wasn’t the first time their glances had crossed eachother and the man smirked as he started up another song. Brendon leaned forward towards the girl whose house it was, tapping her arm to draw her out of the blissed out high she was surfing.

“Who’s that guy playing guitar in the corner?”

The girl smiled widely. Her voice was smooth with a low sultry quality that many people had fallen victim to. “That’s Ryan.”

Brendon waited as she took a long drag and blew white smoke into the air between them.

“He works at the diner with me, waiting tables. Drives a VW beetle. Cute isn’t he?”

Brendon said nothing but glanced across the room once more. ‘Ryan’ had comparatively short, curly hair in amongst the countless heads of long, flowing locks. He wore a floral long sleeved shirt under a loose brown waistcoat and earlier in the night there’d been a bandana wrapped around his head. It now lay discarded on the guitar case behind him.

“This is gonna be my last song guys. Sorry” he smiled as everyone groaned in protest. “Hey, a guy’s gotta smoke some dope.”

Ryan started strumming the chords of ‘You Really Got Me’ and Sarah stood up, tugging at Brendon’s arm.

“Come on, let’s dance. It’s the last song.”

Brendon hardly protested as he let Sarah lead him onto the vague dancefloor which had formed in front of Ryan.

The two of them mingled in with the other dancers, shaking their shoulders and throwing each other out in spins.

Once Ryan had finished they both walked back over to the sofas and Sarah sat down.

“I’m gonna get another drink, you want one?” Brendon asked her. She shook her head and he made his way over to the kitchen, which was empty except for one guy passed out on the back counter.

Ryan was busy packing away his guitar equipment so Brendon hung around next to the fridge, taking his time to find a bottle opener and very considerately tossing the cap in the bin rather than onto the table like everyone else had.

“Hey.”

Ryan was stood in the doorway, leaning easily on the wall.

“Hey man,” Brendon said, “I really dig your music, it was good.”

Ryan smiled with the underlying hint of a smirk.

“Thanks. I’ll be honest, it’s more showing off than anything, I love the attention.”

“Girls go for that do they?”

Ryan finished grabbing a beer from the fridge and turned to look Brendon directly in the eye, taking a long sip before he spoke.

“Yeah, and guys.”

Brendon coughed self-consciously.

“And what about you?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“And what about me?”

“What do you go for?”

Brendon watched as Ryan studied him carefully, cockiness temporarily set aside, as if gauging the likelihood of him being a violent homophobe.

“About the same.”

Right answer. Brendon pushed himself off the counter and moved towards Ryan, crowding him into the corner of the room. Ryan tilted his head up, breathing lightly onto Brendon’s lips which were now only a couple of inches away from his own.

“You really wanna do this here?” he asked, glancing over at the open kitchen doorway.

“Why, do you wanna move it elsewhere?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” he said in mock thought, pulling Brendon’s hips sharply towards his own, “someone could walk in at any moment. It’s pretty irresponsible.”

The noise of the party continuing behind them was loud enough that it was easy to forget just how close they were to the 50 or so other people in the house; there was only a half closed door separating the kitchen from the main room. Brendon moved his hands up to Ryan’s waist, sliding his fingers under his shirt and angling them up his back. Their faces were so close that it was a mere technicality keeping their lips apart and Brendon had to speak under his breath just to stop his lips from moving too much and inadvertently bridging the gap.

“They’re all too drunk or stoned to figure it out, we could move in time.”

Ryan laughed and Brendon felt his breath flutter between them, soft enough that it could almost be mistaken for a tingle of anticipation.

“They’re stoned but not that stoned. I think they’d figure something out if they walked in to see you bent over the table.”

Ryan tucked his thumbs in the waistband of Brendon’s trousers, keeping the two of them pressed together.

“You wanna bend me over the table?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.” Ryan said with a false sense of apathy, betrayed by the smirk he was doing a poor job of hiding. “Wouldn’t mind shoving you up against the refrigerator and kissing you until your lips bleed either.”

Brendon chuckled softly. “I suppose that sounds kinda fun… if that’s the sorta thing you’re into.”

Ryan glanced up at him, momentarily caught off guard by the well put on sincerity.

“And I suppose someone who was into that sort of thing would also like the idea of being pressed against a counter as someone slowly, slowly undoes their belt buckle and-“

Brendon was cut off as the door swung completely open and Ryan shoved him away, creating a couple of feet of space between them. He turned round to see some dude slouching over to the refrigerator and nodded nonchalantly at him. The dude seemed to recognise Ryan and smiled at them both as he grabbed three beers from the bottom shelf of the fridge.

“Hey man, great set earlier. You gotta come back and play some more, some love songs, I got a girl I’m tryna woo.” He mimed slow dancing and then shut the fridge with a laugh.

“Ah I’d love to help,” Ryan said, “but I’m done for the night. I’ll be sure to put slip some in there next time though.” he winked.

 “You’re a good man. I know she likes me it’s just… god, Why does every chick seem to make sense except the one you really wanna understand, yknow? They’re crazy. Well, wish me luck.” The guy slumped back out of the kitchen, leaving the door wide open and the two of them exposed to at least 1/3rd of the main room.  

They stood in silence for a while, sipping their previously abandoned beers. Continuing anything was out of the question with the door so wide open but the act of walking over and closing it was far too forward and decisive. Besides, the complete privacy of the kitchen would make it much too tempting to be entirely irresponsible.

“Come help me carry my guitars down to my car.” Ryan said, putting his bottle down and making a gesture like he would pull Brendon by the hand if they weren’t so exposed.

Brendon pushed himself off the counter and followed Ryan into the main room. As they passed Sarah he leaned down and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey good lookin’.”

She tilted her head up and smiled at him.

“How you doin’?” she asked, raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

“You good if I split?” Brendon said with a slight smirk.

Sarah laughed, accepting the joint being offered by a girl next to her.

“I’m going back to Pamela’s apartment, you have a fab time darling.”

Brendon kissed her on the cheek and grabbed the joint out of her hand, taking a quick drag before handing it back.

“Call The Black Cat if you get into any sort of trouble, Dallon’s working until 6.”

She waved him away good naturedly and turned back to the rest of the circle.

Brendon continued over to the corner of the room where Ryan was stood, coiling up a long black cable with a distinct frown on his face.

“Girlfriend then?” he asked, failing to keep the disapproval out of his voice if he was making any attempt at all.

“Friend. Just a close friend.”

He loosened up a bit but remained watching Brendon cautiously.

Brendon sighed. “We’ve known eachother for years… I didn’t peg you for the jealous type.” He said challengingly. “Don’t be a square.”

Ryan picked up one of the guitar cases and handed it to Brendon.

“I’m not, I just don’t vibe with guys how don’t have the balls to tell anyone who they really are.”

“Well,” said Brendon, holding the guitar case and waiting as Ryan picked up the other case and the small amplifier, “it’s a good job I do have them.”

He walked confidently out of the apartment, swaying his hips just enough to be noticeable. Ryan followed behind him, laughing at the shameless flirtation.

“Nice view back here,” he said as they headed down the stairwell.

Once they were out on the street Ryan led him down a back alleyway and behind another apartment building. Parked beside a fire hydrant was a red VW Beetle.

“Nice car,” Brendon said, waiting as Ryan opened the driver’s side door and loaded his guitar and amp onto the back seats. “I used to have one a few years back but it rusted out.”

“It was a gift from my aunt,” Ryan explained, taking the other guitar from Brendon and stowing it next to the other one. “When I was leaving home to come here; she was the only one in my family who really supported me.”

Brendon shuffled awkwardly.

“Well that sucks man.”

Ryan laughed and shook his head.

“it not a big deal, just another gay kid running away to San Francisco, not exactly a sob story.” he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocked and offered the pack to Brendon. “You want one?”

Brendon nodded but didn’t take the pack.

Ryan chuckled once more and took two cigarettes out, placing both in his mouth and lighting them.

“Here,” he said, passing one to Brendon and leaning against the car bonnet.

Brendon took the cigarette and leaned back next to Ryan. Ryan tapped out some ash and looked at him.

“So, what’s your story?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m the kid who ran away from home to live in the Castro… what kid are you?”

Brendon scuffed his shoe on the floor, blowing a long plume of smoke up into the dark sky. “I’m the kid whose parents act like they don’t know because it’s easier that admitting you hate your son… or actually growing a pair and supporting hm.”

Ryan nodded understandingly.

“What a predictable tragedy we’re all living… perhaps that’s what’s most tragic about it.”

Brendon mumbled non-comitally and Ryan dropped the remains of his cigarette on the floor and stamped it out.

“C’mon.”

He opened the passenger side door and waited for Brendon to get in before slamming it shut and heading over to the driver’s side.

“Where are we going?” Brendon asked, not really caring what the answer was.

“Somewhere I go when I need to think, or just feel particularly peculiar.”

Brendon raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Ryan turned on the engine and drove them out onto the main street.

It was very early morning so there were few cars and no trams running, just the two of them and the occasional couple on their way back from a bar or apartment party.

“So what do you do?” Brendon asked, “when you’re not playing music?”

Ryan paused for a moment as he turned onto a new street then turned his attention back to Brendon.

“I just wait tables, nothing special. It’s at this café which does a load of vegetarian stuff though which is cool.”

“Groovy.” Brendon said, fiddling with the window crank and tapping his cigarette out the window. “I wait tables too, just normal food though. A guy one of my friends works with is vegetarian. I think it sounds pretty interesting, I might try it at some point.”

“You should come check out the café, I could get the cook to whip you up something unusual.”

“Maybe I will,” Brendon said, dropping the remainder of his cigarette on the ground behind them.

He opened the glove compartment and began sorting through the cassette tapes stored in there. The Beatles, The Kinks, Rolling Stones, Lovin’ Spoonful, Animals. More Beatles.

“Hey you mind if I put something on?”

Ryan shrugged.

“Go for it.”

They sat quietly listening for the next several minutes until Ryan pulled the car to a stop and got out, turning the engine off but leaving the music playing distantly.

“This is it,” he said, heaving himself up onto the hood and gesturing or Brendon to do the same. “It’s a good place to just feel the universe y’know? Remind yourself how many other people there are doing the same old journey as you. I like to watch the cars.”

There were a couple hundred feet from the San Francisco side of the golden gate bridge, high up enough that there was a perfect view of every pair of red and white lights which were snaking their way along it like caterpillars.  

“It’s nice,” Brendon said simply, allowing his eyes to drift along the streams of traffic as each car came in and out of their eyeline.

“C’m’ere,” he said, jumping off the hood and walking to the edge of the gravel space they’d stopped on. The cassette had just wound around to _Blackbird_ and Brendon stood there holding his hand out for Ryan to take. Ryan took it slowly, gradually catching each of their fingertips together and then interlocking their fingers as if he was reaching from a far distance. Once they had one hand together Brendon used it to pull Ryan sharply towards him and in one smooth motion firmly press their lips together. As if to make up for the lack of unrestrained touch earlier it was a good few moments until they broke apart again, Brendon’s hands low on Ryan’s back and Ryan tightly gripping Brendon’s shoulders.

“What’s,” Ryan laughed breathily, “what’s your name?”

Brendon bit back a chuckle. “Brendon. Brendon Urie.”

“I’m Ryan.”

Brendon pulled him closer and moved their lips together again.

“I know. I know.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> tag urself I'm the dude passed out in the kitchen the whole time they're dirty talking
> 
> if you enjoyed it please drop a kudos or a comment cause it will 100% brighten my day so much :) x


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